


The Thing About Attraction

by Aprimint



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Africa, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aurors, Banter, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Hogwarts, Sexual Tension, South Africa, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 07:51:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17894444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aprimint/pseuds/Aprimint
Summary: Attraction: (noun) The action or power of evoking interest in or liking for someone or something.When Harry Potter and his friends decide to embark on an impromptu trip to Africa, attraction is the last thing he thought he would need to worry about when surrounded by wild animals and blistering heat.But as the trip progresses, Harry begins to realise that his attraction, whether it be in a foreign country or not, can't be smothered- especially in a confined camper van with Draco Malfoy.





	1. Everyone is spontaneous

**Author's Note:**

> I realise this may be inaccurate in some places, but please bare with. I really enjoyed writing this-and I hope you find this fic as humorous as I like to think myself as.  
> Constructive criticism would be lovely, but please note that as a South-African myself, any references to South Africa are probably accurate, minus a few factual errors.
> 
> I'll try to complete this.

“What. The. Hell?” Harry stopped in his tracks, effectively blocking the doorway of The Leaky Cauldron. Someone sniffed in annoyance and moved around his distraught form, the surrounding air smelling like pungent roses in their wake. 

“This is The Leaky, Haz.” Ginny stared at him in concern. “You’ve been here since you were but a young tadpole.” Her fragrance wrapped itself around her lithe figure, permeating itself through the brisk night air- it was always rose, a comforting rose. Harry found it overpowering.

Harry glared at her out of the corner of his eye- he made a mental note to stop doing that, it always gave him a headache. “I meant that!” He pointed, rather rudely to be quite honest, at the booth in the far-right corner of the room; it was overflowing with a rowdy group of people, some he reluctantly recognised as his friends. 

Ginny followed the direction of his finger and her eyes widened comically. She looked back at him, obviously trying not to laugh. Her hair caught what was present of the dull light inside of the pub- someone can’t afford their electrical bill, Harry thought spitefully, then promptly admonished himself- and a few strands glowed fantastically.  
“So?” She gave him a little shove towards the booth. “Move those legs, one-two, one-two.”

Harry dug his heels in. “No, you don’t understand,” he said, his voice sounding pathetic even to his own ears. “I thought we were meeting up with friends.”

“We are. Did the cold freeze your brain?”

“An alarming number of those people are not my friends.” Harry tried to catch her eye again but she was glancing impatiently at the group. “An alarming nu-”

“-Yes, okay, come on,” Ginny interrupted him, striding towards the booth. He tried to grab onto her arm but the Weasley weaselled out of his grip. He followed her, weaving his way through the tightly packed room, teeth still chattering from the trip to the pub. He and the squad had decided to meet up to celebrate earlier that week, well, no one had anything to celebrate as such but they were all in a celebrating mood, so the get-together had been a prompt arrangement. 

“Harry!” Ron waved at him from his place between Luna and Seamus. “We thought you weren’t going to make it. You took an age to get here, mate.”  
Harry smiled weakly at him, his gaze passing haltingly over the occupants of the group. Dean and Seamus, they were arranged, Luna, just fine, Ron and Hermione, expected.

Then. 

Malfoy. He was sitting next to Hermione, the git, laughing at something she said. His face tilted upwards every time he chuckled- a habit that Harry did not miss. And if Malfoy wasn’t bad enough, somehow someone had a hotline to hell and invited Parkinson and Zabini along as well. Harry had feared this. Ever since Hermione and Malfoy started hanging around together, the other two heads of Cerberus insisted on invading the group.

“Are you crying?” exclaimed Hermione, noticing Harry for the first time. 

“No!” Harry said quickly, flushing as Malfoy turned to stare at him too. “My eyes started tearing up in the cold.” He tried to go for an even, unaffected tone. “It happens. When it’s icy.” Shut up, shut up. “In the cold wind.”

“Of course,” said Hermione and turned back to her conversation with Malfoy. 

“Sit here,” said Ginny, who had pulled up two seats and placed them at the end of the booth. He collapsed in one and looked over at Dean.

“Rough day?” Dean glanced sympathetically at him. Harry shrugged and smiled, reaching across the table for Ron’s pint. He took a hasty swig and pushed it back in front of his friend. Ron was engaged in a lively discussion about chess with Seamus and didn’t notice.

“Well, you know what they say,” Dean said, patting Seamus on the arm to calm down, “every cloud has a silver lining.”

Luna stared at him with a touch of confusion from her seat next to Ron. “No, that’s not the saying,” she stated, smiling kindly at Dean. “It’s ‘every clown has a silver lining’. You know,” she looked expectantly at Harry and Dean, “because clowns have suits with sequins.”  
She continued to smile when Dean stared at her in confusion. 

“That doesn’t even make sense, Luna,” Harry started to say, but she interrupted him with a flutter of her hands. She always had a ring on her index finger and today it was a beaded ring with an orange dragon bead.

“Well, I’m not the one making up these sayings, am I? Go ask the person who does if you don’t understand.”  
Harry nodded hastily, ignoring Dean’s quiet snort. 

Ginny leaned over and nudged him from where she had placed her stool next to Pansy. “Haz, we were wondering who would be least likely to die first if we were trapped in a cage with a lion.” She and Pansy both stared him down.

“Choose your answer wisely, Harry,” said Pansy grimly.  
Harry frowned. “You do realise you’re witches right? Just stupefy the lion.”

“No magic allowed,” they said promptly.

“Uhhh. Tricky one, this.”

Pansy sniffed. “Not really.” She fanned herself- he hadn’t realised what a talent she had for making normal actions so threatening. Ginny pinched him, staring pointedly between her and Pansy.

Harry thought quickly and blurted out, “Pansy.” The person mentioned smirked triumphantly, sitting back in her seat with a satisfied air.

“What?” Ginny opted for punching him this time, a murderous glint in her eyes. Harry yelped and tried to shuffle away, but she hopped closer to him on her stool. “That was a mistake, Potter.”

“I only said Pansy because she would gouge any threatening animal or person with her heels in a heartbeat.” Harry tried to defend himself, moving so far away from the dissatisfied female that he practically ended up sprawled in Dean’s lap.  
Dean smelled faintly of liquorice; half sweet, half spicy. Harry exhaled in relief when Dean put his arms around him- effectively shielding Harry from Ginny.

“She scares me,” Dean whispered, tightening his arms around Harry. He smiled innocently at Ginny when she looked over at them suspiciously.

“She’s a rose. Her thorns are an unfortunate addition.” Harry watched Pansy whisper something to Ginny that suspiciously looked like ‘Wimpy Potter’. Ginny smirked and nodded, her hair bouncing down her back like wild flames. 

“No one seems surprised by the invasion this evening,” Harry commented, not at all sourly, burrowing deeper into Dean’s comfy, navy jumper.  
Dean snorted, shifting in his seat. “I thought you’d say something. I can’t believe you’re only complaining now.”  
Harry nudged him warningly.

“Everyone- with the exception of you,” Dean amended when Harry scowled, “likes them. There’s a reason the past should be left in the past.”  
A loud giggle broke out across the table. Hermione was gazing up at Malfoy with twinkling eyes. Harry didn’t like how she looked at him. Too cosy. Malfoy had a smile gracing his mouth, it turned sharp edges soft, ice to water.

“No.” Harry’s voice was firm, quiet.  
Dean shrugged apologetically. “’Fraid so, mate.”

Harry felt glass rattling inside his head. He was half scared that if he opened his mouth shards would tumble out in a stream of anger. Hermione was priceless china and he didn’t want her to break. It would be fine if she was plastic. But she wasn’t: she was Hermione with an expensive pattern of floral. If he shattered her…  
Hellfire would rain hellfire. 

“It’s really not that bad.” Harry turned to face Blaise who had spoken quietly but loudly. “He’s gentle and she’s fierce. Or he’s fierce and she’s gentle. Whatever.”

“There’s worse things.” Dean seemed to agree with Blaise. Insufferable traitor.  
Harry sighed crossly. “How does everyone know except me? Did they say something?”

Blaise shook his head with a smirk tracing the edge of his lips. He was sitting near Luna who was currently under the table searching for something. The only thing visible of her was one hand grasping the table for support.  
“They didn’t have to.” Blaise laughed quietly at her, looking down to where her blonde head had disappeared under the table. “It’s obvious as hell.”

“What’s obvious?” Ron said, his debate with Seamus finally coming to an end. They both were flushed under the light, cheeks resembling the centre of a rhubarb pie. 

“Nothing,” said Harry quickly, moving out of Dean’s arms when Ron and Seamus turned to face them.  
He felt restless; ever since he had left Hogwarts after re-doing Seventh Year all his attention had been focused on choosing a career path. Now, at twenty-one he, along with Pansy and Ron, had just finished his auror training course. There seemed to be no time to do anything lazy or boring, and Harry had almost forgotten what free time was. Change didn’t seem so bad all of a sudden. How much of a change Malfoy and the others posed was the question that Harry couldn’t answer.

“We should do something spontaneous,” said Seamus, gazing around the table.

“You already do whatever you want.” Ginny stopped shoving Pansy long enough to answer. “So?”  
Seamus shook his head impatiently. “I meant as a group Weasel-” he looked over at Malfoy as if to thank him for the nickname. Malfoy inclined his head in solemn acknowledgement, a smirk prominent on his face. “-This group. Together,” Seamus added, just to make things clear. He clapped his hands excitedly, eyes wide and hyper.

“And what, pray, would we do spontaneously?” Pansy drawled. Over time she had perfected a completely apathetic expression and tone. Harry hated to say that she pulled it off wondrously. 

Seamus perked up- so much so that Dean laid a warning hand on his arm- and started thumping the table. “Something big.”

“Of course.” Pansy leaned forward in her seat. “We would settle for nothing else.”

“Firstly, amen to that,” said Malfoy, “but stop egging him on, Pansy. He’s bad enough without your cajoling.”  
Pansy cast an affronted look at him. “I would never cajole. I’m so interested. Tell me more, Seamus.”

Seamus looked like Christmas had come early.

“I don’t even know what cajoling means,” Ron whispered to Blaise. 

“Flirting,” replied Blaise. Ron’s eyes widened. He nodded and sank back into his seat.

“What did I miss?” Luna crawled out from under the table, a serviette clutched in one hand. Harry wished he could take a picture of the baffled expression painted on Malfoy’s face. 

“Only that we’re all going on a trip to Africa, courtesy of Seamus,” said Pansy, grinning like Lucifer might have, moments before he fell from Heaven.

Luna beamed and tried to hug Seamus over Ron and Blaise’s laps. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you,” she cried. “The Quibbler’s always wanted to do an African special!”  
Seamus, bless his cotton socks, didn’t look as phased as Harry might have expected. He paused, to give Pansy the biggest glare slash appreciative grin, and accepted Luna’s profuse thanks with a mini-bow. 

“You’re all invited,” he announced graciously. “Pansy insists. She is catering, of course.”  
That wiped the smug look off Pansy’s face. 

Dean took a sip of his firewhiskey and swallowed decisively. “Well, if she insists. I can spare a few weeks.”  
“So can I,” said Blaise.  
“Same,” said Ginny and Hermione, the latter appearing slightly more stressed at the prospect of missed working hours.  
Ron shrugged and nodded in agreement.

Pansy’s expression started to resemble the expression of someone who had just jumped off a cliff without a parachute. “Isn’t that. Just. Lovely,” she said tightly. Harry was half afraid that she’d shatter the glass bottle in her hand.

“I’ll join your crusade, Seamus and Pansy,” said Malfoy, after a brief discussion with Hermione. His cheeks were slightly flushed, either from excitement or alcohol. His eyes flashed silver as they met Harry’s: lightening lit up each iris in an intricate display of provocation and daring.

Harry bit his lip, then sighed internally. A change. He could do that. Better than Malfoy.  
He raised his hand wearily. “Count me in.”

Everyone whooped and Hermione buried her head in her hands. “This is such a bad idea.”  
“Madame, I think you mean this is an excellent idea,” Ron stated, grinning as despair crawled onto her face. 

“No, actually,” said Pansy bitterly, scowling at Seamus through narrowed eyes.  
Ginny chuckled and slid an arm around her shoulders. “Cheer up, Pans. You can room with me.”

Pansy just crumpled into a groaning heap on the table.  
Ginny looked affronted. “Rude.”

“There will be no rooming with anyone,” Seamus announced suddenly. He shushed everyone as a chorus of complaints started. “There will be tenting. Because we’re camping! Yay!!” He turned to Dean. “Bonjour, mon tenting buddy.” Dean smiled lazily and gave him a thumbs up.

Blaise rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. “You truly are spontaneous.”

“Dibs on Harry!” called Ron, gesturing wildly at him.  
Malfoy snorted quietly. “You can have him. There’s no queue.”

Harry glared at him and opened his mouth to retort but Luna interrupted him. “When are we leaving?” she asked, looking around the group.

“Tomorrow,” said Seamus and Ron. There were some people who liked to watch the world burn.

“No!” Hermione looked horrified. “I will have to squeeze in extra admin stuff.”

“Fineee,” said Seamus, waving a hand dismissively. “I guess we can do a rain check for the day after.”

“Seamus!”  
He grinned unapologetically at Hermione. “You arrange it then, Granger.”

“Oh, no.” She produced a blatantly fake laugh. “This is your baby, no giving the nappy to someone else.”  
Seamus rolled his eyes, but nodded.

“Baby?” whispered Ron.  
“Just go with it,” said Blaise.

And that’s how the trip sprung into existence.


	2. Leaving For Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try really hard to finish this story

“Stay!” said Hermione, backing away from her suitcase with her arms outstretched before her. “Stay. Good boy.”  
Her case was stuffed to the brim with Hermione-esque essentials- scrolls, books and files. She tiptoed across the lounge of Ron and Harry’s flat, as if she was afraid that any sudden movement would startle the suitcase into exploding paper and ink in a confetti-like display. Her hair was frizzing impossibly about her face and she brushed impatiently at the few strands escaping the heap on top of her head. All her hair was secured in a messy bun with two brightly coloured scrunchies. 

“Glad to see that you packed the utmost requisites,” commented Ron, clad in pyjamas and leaning against the kitchen counter. Hermione’s predicament appeared to be an endless source of amusement for him; he had been standing there for twenty minutes watching her.

Hermione threw an irritated look at him. “Don’t you have anything better to do than stand there gawking rudely? Perhaps some last minute paperwork for the Ministry?”  
Ron laughed rather obnoxiously in response.

She turned around to look for her other suitcase, tripping on her spare vanity bag in the process. Ignoring Ron’s guffaw, she walked around the small lounge, searching for a case that clearly wasn’t there.  
“I don’t think you brought it,” said Ron, helpfully.  
Hermione sighed in exasperation. This whole packing business was proving to be quite a lot more difficult than she had expected. 

“Shoo into the Floo and get it.”  
“Yes, Ronald! I had thought of that, funnily enough.”  
Ron fluttered his hand languidly at her. “Shoo.”

She looked once more around the room, deduced that the lilac suitcase was indeed absent and turned to Ron. “Draco’s coming ‘round with his stuff soon so make sure you get changed. I want to try keep this boyfriend.”

Ron looked down at his polka-dot pyjamas. “I’m secure in my masculinity. What exactly are you insinuating?”  
Hermione pointed at him as she stepped into the Floo and said firmly, “Get changed.” The last Ron saw of her was an exceedingly irked expression before green flames consumed the irate woman.

“Harry!” he shouted, pushing off the granite counter and walking through the flat. “Malfoy’ll be here soon. You ready?”

Receiving no reply, he climbed the rickety staircase, entering a warzone. “Not to be insensitive,” he began, “but this resembles the aftereffects of a bomb going off in a Build-a-bear factory.”

Harry looked up at him. He was sitting in the middle of the corridor, surrounded by a hurricane of clothing.  
He tried to smile up at Ron, but there was sock tucked into the side of his glasses that obscured his vision. He ended up smiling at the ceiling instead. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse.” Ron navigated his way around the piles of clothing, sidestepping a pile that was threatening to tumble from its metre height. “I thought you had packed.”

“I unpacked.” Harry’s voice was muffled through the shirt he was inspecting closely. 

Ron snorted. “Just take whatever. It’s not like you have anyone to impress.”  
Harry shrugged- the sock on the side of his head waggled slightly. His suitcase had been the first ready, waiting at the foot of his bed. Then. In a sudden fit of uncertainty he had ripped open the zip and strewn his clothes across the corridor. Now he was cursing his hasty actions of an hour ago, gazing mournfully at his empty suitcase.

“Chuck everything in and zip it closed.” Was Ron’s wise advice. Harry nodded in relief, and the two of them started to hurl shirts and trousers and jumpers into the poor case.

“You’re a piece of work,” said Ron as he scooped up a pile of socks. Harry grinned and bumped shoulders with him.

“Cheers for the help.”

Ron smirked, projectile-launching the socks at the case. “You’re enjoying this!” accused Harry, brushing a hand through his hair. It was standing up in unruly strands like a cheap mohawk he didn’t ask for.

“Whatever gave you that impression?” said Ron, tossing a pair of underwear in the air. Harry smirked at him in an unspoken agreement.

 

The Floo flared green, and Draco stepped out into the flat’s lounge. He looked around for a second, somewhat in distaste, somewhat in fascination. He’d always pictured Chosen One and Weasley’s flat as the opposite of all things picturesque- he was pleased to note that he wasn’t entirely incorrect. A rug that looked like the remnants of the last woolly mammoth graced the lounge floor, and the couches were all various colours. None of which- Draco concluded, spitefully- complimented each other.

He was about to call for someone when a sequence of thumps sounded on the landing. Apparently, Ron had invested in a one-legged cat, no he reasoned, not a cat- too heavy. A one-legged dragon. Deciding to make himself at home, he accioed a glass from the cabinet on the wall by the kitchenette. He poured himself some lemonade he found in the fridge and set about moving his suitcase next to the large, lilac one in the middle of the living room- Hermione’s, he guessed correctly, judging by the literary state of the interior.

“Harry?” Draco called, albeit quietly. Things between them had got moderately better, even if Harry was still prone to get riled up over the slightest thing Draco said- which, in all fairness, was generally intended to wind him up. The tension had lessened a miniscule amount. Draco counted it a success. The only thing he missed was the continual flashing of Harry’s eyes directed at him. Now he privately had to resist the urge to stir up trouble just to get Harry to look at him; It was comical how temperamental Potter could be. 

Receiving no answer, he ventured towards the foot of the stairs, drink in hand. There was more thumping which seemed mildly out of place in an otherwise silent flat. Slowly, he began to climb the stairs, avoiding the stack of quidditch magazines balanced precariously on the edge of one step. The sight at the top of the stairs made him stop in his tracks.

 

Harry and Ron had decided to make their game a non-verbal one, with allocated points for each “slam dunk” of clothing- Ron’s words.  
Ron held up five fingers as Harry took a running leap up to the suitcase, slamming a pair of pyjamas into the case when he was in the air.

“Five points,” he mouthed, when Harry had landed. Harry looked indignant.

“That was worth at least eight points,” he said.  
Ron rolled his eyes. “Your foot faltered a bit on the landing.”  
Harry scoffed and shook his head. He had performed a near-perfect execution. 

“Fine. Watch this. Then prepare to eat your own words.” Harry backed up from the suitcase, walking down the corridor with a grim expression on his face. Taking a deep breath, he faced the suitcase determinedly and then sprinted as fast as he could.  
As he cleared the suitcase, his distracted mind focused on the figure coming up the stairs. Abort, abort, his brain screamed at him. The thing was- Harry couldn’t abort his mission as he was in mid-air at the speed of roughly a fast chihuahua.

Draco reached the top of the stairs, muttering to himself about the lack of welcome. He had a split-second to catch Harry’s expression of horror, before his body felt a meteor-like impact and everything went black, like curtains closing at the end of a performance at the theatre.

“I only left for half an hour!” Hermione paced around the flat’s living room in circles, managing to maintain fierce eye contact with Harry. She resembled an overgrown owl.

Harry cringed in his seat, rubbing his red forehead. “I-I didn’t do it on purpose, Mi.”

Hermione paused her furious circling for a moment. “Well, I should hope not, or I’d be really worried.”  
Harry shifted uncomfortably, glaring at Ron across the room.

Ron was trying so hard not to collapse in laughter, he looked like he was about to combust.  
“Ronald, it’s not funny,” Hermione snapped, causing Ron to straighten in his arm chair minutely.  
“No, of course it isn’t,” he managed, tears blatantly running down his face.

“You had better apologise to Draco when he comes out the bathroom.” She glared once more for good measure. “Though he’ll probably be in there for ages, cleaning up all the blood.”

Harry sighed and nodded. He had apologised profusely already, but apparently five hundred ‘sorry’s’ wouldn’t cut it. 

A loud snort from Ron’s direction brought him back to reality. His glasses had snapped down the middle and needed a reparo, but he didn’t think Hermione would appreciate it if he focused his energy on anything other than feelings of guilt and shame.

Draco walked back into the room after vanishing most of the blood from the gash on his forehead. He remembered opening his eyes and finding himself lying on the couch, Potter’s face impossibly red, Ron looking like he’d collapse from laughing, and Hermione shooting murderous glances at both of them. He’d dashed to the bathroom, leaving a trail of blood behind him. The only upside to the situation was when he heard Hermione ordering Harry to clean up the spots of blood. Served him right, the buffoon.

“Are you okay Honey?” Hermione swarmed around him as soon as he appeared in the doorway.  
“Fine.” He smiled at her.  
“Are you sure, Honey?” said Ron, grinning maniacally. Draco glared at him. 

“I-I’m so, so sorry,” said Harry, flushing and looking like a downcast kitten. Draco sighed and directed a long sparing look at him. His hair was poking up all around his face like a distressed hedgehog. A cute hedgehog. 

Draco shook his head, telling himself firmly that no, that type of thinking was unacceptable, and pinned Harry with a dark glare. “What actually happened?” He bit out.  
This sent Ron into another peal of laughter, clutching the arms of his chair for support. Harry beseeched Hermione to help him out but she just raised her eyebrows in a perfect silent rendition of Hell, no.

“Uh,” Harry said, wishing he was anywhere but here, “so, classic wrong place at the wrong time, huh?” he turned to Ron for support but Ron waved him on with a trembling hand. Draco bit his lip.  
Harry stared, transfixed and then tried to continue. “I kinda, just, bumped into you. And then you fell down the stairs. Only the first few, though,” he said hastily, at Draco’s horrified look.

“Harry,” said Ron, “You didn’t ‘bump’ into him. Blind people ‘bump’ into walls. You basically crumpled him li-”

“-Yes, thank you, Ron,” Harry interrupted him quickly.

“What were you even doing anyway, leaping about like that?” Hermione put her arms around Draco’s waist. Her head came up to just under his collarbone, and he rested his head on hers. 

“Nothing,” said Ron, finally acting like a best friend and helping Harry.  
“Yeah, nothing,” Harry echoed. 

Hermione smiled softly and shook her head. “At least you get to play the injured card,” she said, hugging Draco tighter. “That should evoke some sympathy from the others.”

It did not, in fact, evoke anything but laughter from the others.

“You actually fell down the stairs?” said Ginny, leaning on Blaise, she was laughing so hard. “Like, actually fell down like a slinky?”

“You could say that,” Draco replied, testily. “There really is no need to giggle so hard, Ginevra.” They were standing in a Tesco carpark, waiting for Dean and Pansy to show up. They had decided to meet up first and then go through the International Floo Network as a group.  
Ginny glared at him and nudged Blaise until he glared at Draco as well. 

“I knew you liked it rough, Harry,” said Seamus, who was wearing a button-down shirt with elephants on it. “But not so rough you’d toss him down the stairs. Blimey.”  
Harry shoved him indignantly, pointedly not looking at Draco. “I did not,” he said indignantly, “do it with Draco. Rough, I mean.”

Seamus smirked. “So, you did do it, but not roughly?”

Draco shook his head frantically at the same time as Harry. “We didn’t do anything,” Harry said, his face flaming. Ginny hummed in response, sitting down on her suitcase in the middle of the road.  
“Ginny don’t do that. You’ll get run over,” Draco snapped, an irritable look on his face. He was running a hand through his hair, the fair strands making a halo in the cold sunlight. He was wearing jeans which were too tight and suffocating. (They were not worth the double glances he received, walking down the street.) “Seamus, shut up.”

Seamus looked affronted and Ginny just shrugged. “No, I won’t.” She gestured to all the parked cars. “No one will run me over. They’re too cowardly.”

“Have any of you heard from Dean or Pansy?” Hermione asked, shoving her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She had flushed cheeks from the cold, her swirling brown eyes the only warmth in her face. “Neither of them is picking up.”

“How long ago should they have been here?” Blaise asked.

“Twenty minutes ago.” Hermione put her hands on her hips. “We can’t be late.”

“I’ll try Dean,” said Harry, and Hermione nodded. He opened his phone and rang Dean’s number. It beeped for a minute or two and then the call ended. 

“Charlie Golf Echo, we’ve lost contact with Tango Monkey Ice cream,” said Ginny.  
Ron peered at her. “That’s really not how it works.”

They waited for a few more minutes, a cold breeze lacing through the carpark into an intricate web of wind. On one side of the carpark was Tesco, the other, some buildings mottled with decay. All around was the stench of London: a perfume of busyness and rushing and bustling. Traffic surged through the city, always pausing between intersections- never quite managing to achieve a satisfactory roaring speed.

Eventually, everyone began to lose patience and the idea of leaving Dean and Pansy behind began to formulate in everyone’s mind.  
“I say we leave a note on that lamppost for them to find, and go,” said Draco, bundling up in his jumper.

Ron nodded. “Will the note have your name on it, so that they know we went?”  
“Of course,” said Draco. “I’m not a barbarian.”

Blaise grinned and went to pick up his suitcase. “He’s joking,” said Hermione crossly, putting her foot on Blaise’s case.

“I’m not,” Draco said.

“There!” Ginny pointed to a space on the other side of the car park. Dean was walking quickly, clearly unsettled, while Pansy sauntered along next to him. She was wheeling a trail of suitcases behind her- each suitcase tied to the other with string.

“You had better have a very good reason for your tardiness,” Hermione hissed, frantically checking her watch. “We have ten minutes ‘til the floo closes.”  
Dean nodded smoothly and turned to Pansy. “Would you care to explain, Pansy?”

“Not here!” said Hermione. “When we’ve apparated. Do we look like we have time for a communal meeting at Tesco?”  
Harry stepped on Seamus’s foot when he opened his mouth to probably say something stupid like ‘yes’. 

One by one they apparated to Travel Headquarters- with only a tad bit of difficulty.  
Once they had all arrived in the maze of offices underneath London, Hermione and Draco led the way to the International Travel section, urging everyone else to, “Hurry your magical butts,” Hermione shouted, earning a few concerned gazes from distinguished wizards and witches.

“Just this staircase,” said Draco breathlessly.

“Go, go, go,” Hermione urged, hurtling down the stairs with her cases. It was a wonder she didn’t break her neck.

“Somebody hold Draco’s hand down the stairs,” Seamus quipped, grinning at how flustered Draco became. 

Pansy shoved Blaise out her way, her tiny body containing a shocking amount of strength. Harry had to laugh at the spectacle she made; her hair brushed against her shoulders, and as she pushed several more people out of the way- some strangers- she looked like she was born of war. A gladiator with silver hoop earrings, leather jacket and converse.  
She was striding, her suitcases wheeling behind her on string. A caterpillar, Harry thought. But he had enough sense not to make his observation public.

“Pansy! Shrink your cases. Can you even call yourself a witch,” exclaimed Ginny, who had stubbed her toe on the last of the cases.  
Harry felt something brush against his side and he peered down to see Luna. She was smiling shyly up at him, hair floating behind her as she practically ran to keep up with the group.

“Where’ve you been?” Harry asked kindly, adjusting his grip on his travel bag.  
Luna shrugged as best as one can when one is moving at break-neck speed. “There was something in the bushes.”

“At Tesco?”  
She nodded calmly, “I’ll show you later.”  
“You do that.”

The group finally arrived at the Gate in more or less one piece. They all high-fived- the old lady manning the Gate appeared less than thrilled at the sheer volume of people and luggage.

“Line up, please,” she grunted, her nose sagging off her face due to its abnormal largeness. Actually, she didn’t say please, but for manner’s sake, we’ll say she did. “Get your payment ready for convenient handover.”  
Miraculously, everyone managed to get into something that resembled a queue. Harry looked around at his friends, surprised at how cooperative Seamus and Ron, in particular, were being. His eyes caught on the back of Draco’s neck: there were a few freckles dancing at the base of his neck, something Harry had never noticed before. A kaleidoscope of sun-kissed skin amongst the usual icy pale skin. It was beautiful.

“Harry.”

“Uh y-yes?” Harry started, colour brushing his skin like ink spreading through water.

“You okay?” Hermione stared at him, worry gracing her face. “This is your Floo fare from Seamus.” She shoved some money into his hand.  
Harry nodded as she moved along to Luna and gave her a few galleons. He felt horrible, but he couldn’t help it.  
Yes, you can, his brain chided him. You’re just too tempted. 

The next twenty minutes was spent sorting their luggage into the correct area to be delivered separately, and signing various safety and legal forms. There was a slight panic when Ginny noticed that Ron had ticked South America as his destination instead of South Africa and a rush of ensuring that everyone was going to end up in South Africa and not Argentina or Peru. 

Blaise had an argument with the Floo lady over whether he could bring the wine in his hipflask through the Network. 

“Just get some there,” Dean hissed, as Blaise tried to snatch back the flask out of the lady’s hands. 

“I want this,” Blaise whined, not relinquishing his hold. He peered at her name badge. “Eugenie, for goodness sake, give my wine back.”  
Eugenie glared at him and tore it out of his hands. “This is a restricted item,” she declared snottily. “You are not permitted to carry alcohol on your persons through the International Floo Network.”

Ron leaned in to Harry. “What a cow,” he whispered. Harry agreed, smirking at the defeated expression on Blaise’s face.

“Oh great!” said Ginny loudly. “Now I’ll have to unpack all that vodka in my suitcase.”  
Eugenie looked like she was about to have an aneurysm.  
Hermione elbowed Ginny hard. “Stop it. She’s joking. Really.” She gave Eugenie a strained smile, teeth clenched tight.

At long last they were all passing through the Floo. It was moderner than the usual fireplace Floo: there were cylinders with grates at the bottom to toss the Floo powder and a plaque with the destination that changed for each person. 

“South Africa, here I come,” called Seamus and then he vanished.  
One by one, they stepped in to the cylinders and disappeared, Blaise giving Eugenie a last exceedingly scathing look.


	3. Can't Outrun Temptation

There is generally a way of describing something, a means of employing certain words from an inexhaustible linguistic bank, to properly bring to life a series of emotions.

But Pansy was speechless.

She gestured wildly at the van Ginny and Luna had driven up in, eyes impossibly wide. She tried to spit out a few sentences but all that came out was a furious gagging.

“Now, now,” said Luna, her head sticking out the passenger window, “we know it’s pretty, but you don’t need to portray your fascination quite like that.”

Ginny hopped out the driver’s side of the vehicle and leaned against the car door. She patted the van happily. “Sweet ride, huh? That car place was renting it for a great deal.”

Luna climbed out and walked to the front of the car, skirt flowing behind her in blues.

Pansy finally found her tongue and spluttered, “No wonder! It’s horrendous and cumbersome.”

“Uh uh uh,” said Ginny giving her a stern look. “No fat-shaming.”

She patted the van again. “Me and Luna were looking around the place, asking dignified questions,”- Pansy snorted- “and then our eyes landed on this beautiful twelve-seat coach.”

“Are you blind?” Pansy muttered. Ginny ignored her and continued talking.

“And we said to ourselves… well, what did we say, Luna?”

Luna didn’t miss a beat. “We said to ourselves, you a bit more evilly, how about this lovely car model for our trip?”

“Then the rest is history,” said Ginny, gesturing widely with her arms.

“That coach is history,” Pansy muttered again. She glanced sourly at the van, nose wrinkling. “The seats had better be comfortable if I’m risking my reputation.”

Luna giggled, hopping onto the bonnet and arranging her skirt around her. “No one knows you in South Africa.”

“Then it will be just my luck that I meet the ideal widowed Billionaire and I’m in a small coach.”

Ginny ignored her. “Where’s the others?”

“Hermione, Draco and Blaise are exchanging mainly Seamus’s money at this Service place, and the rest are buying food. With my money, I’d like to add.”

Ginny looked at her in alarm. “They left you alone in a foreign country!” she exclaimed, starting forward.

“Nah,” said Pansy, her silver hoops glinting in the sun. Her heart quickened at the murderous expression on Ginny’s face. “Harry was with me. He needed the toilet.” She snorted. “I think the heat got to him within twenty minutes of arriving.”

“Ugh, he gets sweaty as well.” Luna lay back on the van’s bonnet, shielding her face from the fierce light. “At least sweat protects you from certain dark magic.”

“It does?” Ginny appeared too interested. Pansy shook her head at her.

The car park outside the Travel Headquarters in Bloemfontein was glistening like a dark body of water. Furiously, the shimmering sun beat down on the earth, casting large shadows behind tall buildings.

“Luna, cast a protection charm. You’re going to get burned, sweetheart,” said Pansy, gazing anxiously at the relaxed girl. “A road trip with a sunburn will be excruciating.”

Ginny made a noise in agreement. “I got sunburned really badly this time we went to Egypt,” she said, casting her own sun charm. “All my brothers took pictures of me instead of the pyramids. Said I looked like the lesser well-known attraction called the English Blister.”

“Lovely,” commented Luna, without looking up.

“How long are they going to be,” Pansy griped, tapping her foot impatiently. She was deliberating whether to remove her silver earrings. “Should I take off my earrings? I’m scared that they’ll start a wild fire with their glinting. But like, is avoiding a fire worth taking them off? I look really good.”

“I see what you mean.” Ginny tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Is saving an entire area of buildings, animals and people worth denying you your vanity? That’s a hard one.”

Pansy stuck her tongue out and decided to leave the hoops. “They had better hurry up,” she said, checking her watch.

“Ron and them have probably bought the entire food store,” Luna remarked, shifting on the van. Her skirt blended into the paintwork, Pansy thought with a grin.

“That they have,” said Ginny, pointing beyond Pansy. Dean waved as best as he could, bags strapped to his arms, Seamus wheeling a luggage trolley behind them.

“Did he just steal a trolley from the Travel section?” Pansy asked. “If so, can he get any more weirdly perfect?”

“There are actual grocery trolleys so I really don’t know why he couldn’t use one of those.” Ginny snorted and waved back at Dean. “Looks like our diet is gonna be made up of crisps and porridge. How healthy.”

“That’s the way I’d choose to go,” Pansy replied, gesturing-one might say rudely- at the boys.

Ron sighed in relief when they reached the van. “Firstly,” he said, “I love that van, and secondly, I don’t think anyone realises how heavy food is.”

“Not for strong people, it isn’t,” Ginny said tartly, walking around the van and opening the boot.

“That’s a big boot,” said Dean admiringly, depositing armfuls of bags.

“Thanks,” said Ginny.

“Where’s Draco and the rest?” Seamus hurled the boxes of food out of his trolley and into the boot. Ron took pity on him and levitated the remaining boxes with his wand. “Thought they would be done by now.”

“Hermione just sent a message,” said Pansy, getting into the van and claiming an aisle seat. “She’s picking up the luggage from baggage claims and then she’ll be here.”

“I thought Harry stayed with you?” Ron questioned, prodding Seamus out the way with the last of the boxes.

“Yes.”

“He’s not here.”

“Brilliant observation. Fantastic, really,” drawled Pansy. “So astute.”

Ron glared at her, his freckles painted vividly on his cheeks. Already, he looked worn out, fatigue emanating off his lanky frame- this break would do wonders for the relaxation he needed. Auror training was vigorous and strenuous, too much so sometimes. Stars danced behind his eyelids.

“You finding the training exhausting?”

He looked at Pansy and shrugged. She nodded and mimed sleeping, eyelashes fluttering closed.

“Same,” she said, resignation lacing her voice. “They work you and work you and work you.”

He agreed. But he wouldn’t quit it. The adrenaline and excitement and intrigue were things he’s miss in a heartbeat. He craved the feeling of usefulness like a heroin addict- fought against the self-doubt while training to fight criminals.

“Who’re you assigned to?”

“Chap called Aldric.” He rubbed his eyes.

“Know him?”

“Nah, heard he’s pretty strict though.”

Pansy nodded with a rare touch of interest. “I’m with Bess Meghan. Met her the other day for the first time- she’s good. Had this case solved in a matter of hours.”

“Looking forward to the next year of training on-the-job?” he asked, feeling slightly more energetic at the prospect of actually _helping_ the aurors.

She grinned- eyes lighting up behind long eyelashes, and leaned on the back of the seat- making sure her trousers didn’t crease. “Sure- it’s all fun and games until we get to do the real stuff.”

Ron settled the boxes, ensuring the items inside didn’t topple over, and stepped back. “I think that’s about it,” he commented, drawing his wand and shrinking the boxes to make room for vast amount of luggage.

Pansy adjusted her leather jacket around her shoulders. “I don’t usually direct any feelings of admiration towards Harry, but the idiot has managed to skive out of doing any work. He’s earned a grain of my respect.”

Ron looked up with a giant grin on his face and she hastened to add in a warning tone, “I’ll hex you into a futuristic oblivion if you tell him what I just said.”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve bent over backwards in aid either,” said Dean, appearing next to Ron.

“Be glad I haven’t decided to thwart your efforts,” said Pansy, turning to face Luna who had gotten into the front of the van. “Some people just don’t have a grateful bone in their whole body.”

Luna shrugged serenely. “They’re the ones who flop around like jelly.”

“Exactly.” Pansy pointed at her. “Lumps of ungrateful jelly.”

Ginny called then to announce that Draco, Blaise and Hermione were walking up, and to quickly look like everyone was doing something productive.

“We just have,” Dean muttered, raising his eyebrows in Pansy’s direction. She ignored him; she was incredibly good at that.

Hermione reached them first, wheeling a trolley of shrunk cases and wearing a peppy expression. “Sorry,” she said, going around to the back of the van. “There was an awful queue.”

“There was, until we realised we were actually in a queue for a café, but once we got to the right place it went quickly,” Draco added, beginning to unload the trolleys. He had rolled his sleeves due to the heat. Blaise stood by, ready to return them.

Luna poked her head around her seat. “Did you get any iced coffee?” she asked hopefully.

Draco beamed and nodded, digging out a crumpled cup from his trolley. He levitated it to her, turning and grinning smugly at Hermione. “Told you it would be worth staying in that queue a few minutes longer.”

She sighed and focused on ensuring her lilac case was in the best spot for easy accessibility.

Draco looked at Dean and Ron with a frown. “Where’s Harry?”

“He’ll be here soon, don’t you worry,” Ron replied. Draco blushed and turned away.

Dean observed this with slight confusion, but didn’t comment, choosing instead to grab Seamus-who was by the side of the van with his wand- by the collar before he could do anything stupid.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” He protested, wriggling around. Dean smiled fondly at him.

“Of course, you weren’t,” he said innocently, “I was just stopping you before you inevitably did.”

There was a sudden yelp and they turned to see Ginny with her wand in her hand, grinning lazily. Harry, who had just walked up, was rubbing his side, glaring at her-not quite mastering a threatening effect, more a miffed hedgehog.

“You just left Pansy!” She raised an eyebrow at his particularly beta behaviour.

“I needed the toilet,” Harry said indignantly, “and she said I should go. Well,” he amended, “those weren’t her exact words.” He glanced meaningfully and Ginny nodded in impatient understanding. “There was more swearing and insults.”

“More aggression?” added Draco. Harry nodded, still wincing slightly. He noticed Draco had rolled up his sleeves, and then out of the blue, breathing got torturous. Achingly painful, wistfully, damaging.

“For heaven’s sake. I only hexed you,” said Ginny, stuffing her wand back in her pocket. “Stop being a wuss.”

Pansy smirked-she really didn’t need to, Harry thought resentfully- and whispered something into the air that suspiciously resembled ‘The Chosen Wimp’. He willed the ache licking at his insides to extinguish, pointedly not looking at either Draco or Hermione. It felt like a betrayal when he observed Hermione’s sympathetic face, witnessed the way her soft body moulded perfectly into Draco’s side.

When everyone focused their attention-and subsequently energy- into fighting for seating positions in the van, Dean moved closer to Harry, a questioning glint in his eyes and a rather nosy expression on his face.

“There’s something up,” he said quietly. He gestured with his arms for a hug.

Harry walked into them without complaint, studiously ignoring the frantic pace of his heart.

“Nothing is up.” He tapped on Dean’s shoulder to tighten his arms. Dean complied instantly. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Really.” Dean’s voice managed to sound both worried and dry, a mingling of emotions into a lace of compassion.

Harry lifted his head over Dean’s shoulder and pretended to sniff the air. “What’s that I smell?” He sniffed again for maximum effect. “Oh, never mind, it’s just blatant _nosiness_.”

“Harry,” said Dean.

“I need to spray my get-your-nose-out-of-my-business spray,” Harry muttered.

“You’re acting strange,” Dean said patiently, deliberately not rising to the bait.

“The stench-”

“-Harry! Something is worrying you,” Dean enunciated, tightening his arms around him. “I’m not letting you go until you at least admit that.”

Harry sighed, going limp. The thing was…he didn’t understand himself what was going on- how could anyone else fully appreciate and understand empires they hadn’t built? Resignation permeated his bones when he realised that he had built this problem- brick by brick-whatever it was, and now he had to face it like a sinner before a shrine.

“I don’t know. I don’t understand it. I hate it.” He buried his face in his friend’s chest.

Dean’s voice was impossibly soft, quiet, but Harry heard it. “What don’t you understand?”

“Others. People. Me.”

“Not everything can be explained,” Dean said, willing himself to not probe further.

“I should be able to explain myself.” Harry clenched and unclenched his jaw.

Dean smiled- fiercely, softly. “Nobody is asking you to.” He released Harry from his arms with a pat on the arm. “Perhaps you’re not being honest with yourself-” Harry snorted, “-and perhaps you want to be.”

“Dean?”

“Yes?”

Harry moved away from him, a faint smile on his face. “Thank you.”

“I’m being selfish really.” Dean’s eyes sparkled. “You give really good hugs. Let’s get into that van before we melt onto the tarmac.”

Harry agreed and turned to the vehicle. He could’ve said he wasn’t expecting four pairs of eyes peering out of the windows but he couldn’t tell lies. A small part of him wanted to curse all the nosy gits, but they did make a rather cute picture: Ron, Luna, Blaise, Ginny, Draco, Pansy, Hermione and Seamus were all lined up inside the van, observing- certainly not inconspicuously- him and Dean. Ginny was taking it a step further and had her face squashed against the window in a grand impersonation of a curious pug.

Inside the van Seamus said, “If one of them starts crying, I’m out.”

Hermione shot him an impatient look. “There has been something up with Harry. Hopefully Dean’s talked to him about whatever it is.”

“Oh, I hope he doesn’t cry,” said Luna with a touch of agitation.

“Me neither,” Ginny declared, moving away from the window and rubbing her red nose. “My camera’s stuffed in my suitcase somewhere.”

“I think they’re finished,” Pansy observed. She waved at Dean, her black hair brushing her shoulders. Dean shook his head and waved lazily back, following Harry into the van. He claimed a seat next to Ron near the middle of the vehicle and sat back with a long-suffering sigh.

Harry sat down in the last available seat next to Hermione, purposefully ignoring her carefully neutral face. She patted his knee and then he relaxed. The hours ahead would be spent in a less guilty state if she didn’t treat him like a fragile porcelain vase.

There was a moment of cheering when Blaise started the vehicle and then they were off.

The car was barely out of the carpark when Ron commenced his complaining about the lack of available snacks- Seamus threw a pack of jaffa cakes at his head to shut him up- and Blaise and Luna started singing, obnoxiously loudly, along to an Abba CD.

“And the trip begins!” shouted Ginny, throwing her hands in the air.

Blaise peered at her in the rear-view mirror. “I’m pretty sure the trip began when we went through the Floo.”

Ginny made a face. “Little details.”

Harry gulped. Little details. Like the way Draco sat with one foot up on the seat, or how he would always, always smile softly at the person talking to him. He hated himself for being so exceedingly jealous of Pansy for sitting next to him- knowing full well that the moment he sat next to Draco he would clam up like a prize oyster.

Hermione shifted closer to him, eyes twinkling, mouth quirking up at the corners, radiating warmth and trust. Harry felt sick.

“You really are upset by something,” she said, and because she was Hermione and was therefore considerate and lovely and tactful, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Or someone?”

Harry jumped in his seat, then tried to play it off as a stretch.

“Right.” Hermione watched him with an amused tilt to her head. “So, who is it?”

Harry huffed out a laugh. The laugh may have convinced a deaf person, but unfortunately some deity must have had it in for Harry because Hermione was neither deaf, nor was she particularly gullible.

“It’s, uh, n-not me, is it?”

Harry hurriedly assured her it wasn’t at all her, the tremble vanishing from her hands immediately.

“Because people do say I’m annoying,” she said with a laugh just as unconvincing as Harry’s.

“Not to me,” Harry said warmly, despite the ice trickling down his spine.

“Okay.” Hermione’s disposition changed rapidly to a ray of sunshine. “Who is it?”

Harry realised- belatedly- that he may have just been had by the conniving little git. “ _No one_ ,” he said firmly, hearing mocking laughter in his head.

“Will you tell me at some point?” Hermione asked, with an exasperated glance at Seamus who was already bored and throwing bits of a brochure he found at people’s heads.

“Of course,” said Harry, like a liar.

For the next few hours, they travelled North, along highways, commenting on impossibly blue skies. Ron had dug out a wizarding chess set and he and Dean were currently playing as a team against Draco and Pansy. Hermione had spelled the vehicle with one of her undetectable extension charms-Harry wasn’t sure if that was entirely legal- and there was a pleasant amount of space. Pansy had taken it a step further- as usual- and managed to spell hers and Draco’s seat around to face Ron and Dean.

Harry had asked her if the Ministry would allow her to use magic on muggle objects, surrounded by muggles, but she just grinned wickedly.

“I checked this book on magic guidelines and regulations. Apparently, your spelled object or artefact must remain at least twenty metres from a muggle, so, Blaise just park the coach on the very edge of the car park when we stop,” she said airily.

Blaise had given her a thumbs-up, busy with driving and engrossed in his conversation with Luna in the front seat.

“Hot,” Seamus said now. Even the elephants on his shirt were starting to look a bit droopy.

“There you go,” said Ginny, directing a blast of augementi at him.

“Go away,” he whined, wiping water off of his face. “I don’t want _your_ water.”

Ginny stared indignantly at him. “What is wrong with my water, huh?”

Seamus ignored her, rubbing his face and head so vigorously his tawny hair stood in turrets. Ginny nudged him.

“What’s wrong with my water, Seamus?” She said again. She had copied Hermione and heaped her hair on top of her head in a messy bun.

He gave her a long-suffering look and moved as far away from her as he could in their shared quarters. Ginny prodded him again.

“Stop annoying him, Ginny,” Draco commented, moving his bishop. Pansy squawked, hitting his arm in protest. “We need to sacrifice one of our pieces,” he said to her. Pansy scowled, looking half-inclined to snatch the bishop off the board.

“Well, excuse me for trying to help him,” Ginny muttered. Seamus grinned cheekily at her.

“Can’t we sacrifice one of the others,” Pansy complained. “Like a pawn?”

Draco sighed and shook his head.

“No, you can’t,” Ron said helpfully. He ducked when Pansy tried to swat him.

Draco quickly completed the move while Pansy was pre-occupied. His traitorous eyes wandered, oh who was he trying to kid, _sought out_ a certain messy, attractive person. He was curled in his seat, sleeping with such a peaceful expression that Draco wanted to make a loud noise, anything to get those eyes to fix on him.

Hermione turned and caught him staring in their direction. He was guilty, evil and yet he still wanted to look at him. Her bright smile should have lit fairy lights in his body, but all that pure, trusting action did was darken the betrayal glowing through the cracks in his answering smile. _Forget_ , his mind screamed. _Ignore it and for her sake, forget_.

“Having fun?” Hermione asked, and Draco wanted to kiss her. Anything to keep his eyes straying to where they shouldn’t.

“Yes, of course,” he said. Because he was enjoying himself-but his temptation needed cleansing.

“Good.” She emanated beauty from her dark skin, from every tendril of hair.

Draco focused again on the chess board; the black and white squares blending together.

“You’re lucky.”

Draco looked up at Dean. He was sitting quietly, not partaking in the play-fight Ron, Seamus, Ginny and Pansy had orchestrated.

“For what?” said Draco, wetting his lips.

“For having Hermione,” said Dean. He shrugged and had a disconcerting air of knowing something he shouldn’t. “Not having her, really. Being with her.”

Draco nodded. His voice caught in his throat. “I know. I am lucky.”


End file.
